


(after)life and love

by thishasbeencary



Series: soulmate aus [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (It's Yuuri), (Well sort of ghosts), Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant Timeline, Character dead before story starts, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, pre-canon timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishasbeencary/pseuds/thishasbeencary
Summary: After Yuuri died, he woke up to a bright, flickering light above him. And, well, yeah, Yuuri had heard the phrase that after you die you "see the light", but he was almost positive that "the light" didn't refer to an overhead lamp. Especially not the overhead lamp in Viktor Nikiforov's bedroom. Wait, no, what? Maybe this was heaven. Except, if this was the afterlife, why was Viktor acting like he didn't exist? And why was Yuuri's afterlife some creepy stalker-dream of him following around Viktor Nikiforov?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know if this is an au that exists to overcomplicate, but it's definitely overcomplicated. it's a soulmate au. that i hopefully explain well enough throughout the story. if not, i'll explain the general idea in the end notes of the second chapter (not here bc part of it would give away what i have planned for the second half).
> 
> this is split into 2 chapters because i got impatient with my editing and it ended up longer than i thought it would (i was expecting a 2500ish word oneshot like my others), but the next chapter is 3/4 written, so it should be up soon. <33
> 
> i'm on tumblr at [yoyoplisetsky](https://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/). come grab me to talk to me. or yell at me. or give me prompts. or just silently stalk me. i love it all.

 Yuuri Katsuki was eighteen years old when he died.

He wished he could tell the story, but the truth was, he didn’t remember. All he knew was that he was preparing to move to America, to train under a new coach, getting together the rest of his stuff so that he’d be able to get all of his things there in time, and the next thing he knew, he was dead.

Or, at least, he assumed he was. There were two times in your life when you supposedly “saw the light”, and those were when you met your soulmate and when you died. Unless he’d managed to meet his soulmate in this blank space in his memory, it seemed that Yuuri was probably dead, considering he’d woken up only able to see a bright light ahead of him at first.

And then the room came more into view, and he blinked a few times, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. The light was flickering in and out of his vision, and the only thing he could focus on at first, but… after he was able to tear his eyes away from the light, he stumbled backwards in shock, knocking into the wall opposite him and his hands flying to his mouth to contain any sort of noise that might escape from him.

That was Viktor Nikiforov, asleep, in his bed. He had somehow made it into Viktor Nikiforov’s bedroom. Well, unless he was dead. Then… Seriously? His form of the afterlife was Viktor Nikiforov’s bedroom? That was levels of creepy that Yuuri didn’t think he was even capable of being, and he closed his eyes a few times, trying to will the scene to change, but it didn’t. Viktor continued to sleep in front of him, his body turning to bury his head against the fur of his poodle.

Honestly, he looked sort of uncomfortable. His back was propped up against the bed and he still had a book in his hands, like he’d fallen asleep reading, and Makkachin was pressed up against his legs, all of the dog’s weight resting on Viktor. Not to mention that the light was still on, and definitely way too bright to be able to comfortably sleep.

Yuuri stood silently in shock against the wall, pressing himself against it before sinking down onto the ground. He had to test this, right? He had to… hopefully, this was just… temporary. Or maybe a dream. Maybe he wasn’t dead at all. Maybe this was just a dream. How did you wake up from dreams? Pinching your arm? That was how people did it in movies, right?

Yuuri pinched his arm (maybe a little too hard) between his fingers with his eyes shut, and upon opening them… Viktor Nikiforov was still there. God, Yuuri wished he could have been obsessed with something else. At the very least, couldn’t his afterlife have been watching Viktor skate? Watching him sleep was just… creepy.

Could he wake him up? If this was some world created by him to help him adjust to life after death, then that probably meant that he’d be able to wake Viktor up, and Viktor would reveal the secrets of the universe, like in a video game or movie. Oh! Maybe that was it, maybe it was less creepy. Maybe he just had to wake Viktor up, ask him what the hell was going on, get his advice and fate, and then he’d be able to move onto his true afterlife.

And not just watch Viktor Nikiforov sleep for the rest of eternity.

“V- Viktor?” He took a cautious step forward, because if this was his heaven, and he was dead, shouldn’t he be able to have some control over what was happening? Like, if he tapped Viktor’s shoulder, Viktor would wake up? How do you wake someone up when you’re dead? God, they needed guide books on this. Not that anyone could really write them, because you couldn’t come back from the dead to write a book about how you’d died and what happened after that.

And most people probably didn’t encounter a fast asleep Viktor Nikiforov.  

Even after Yuuri had spoken, Viktor showed no sign of movement. Yuuri swallowed, walking the rest of the way up to him, freezing when Makkachin’s eyes opened, and the dog looked directly at Yuuri, letting out a soft bark. “Shh, Makkachin, quiet, I’m sorry. Oh, god, he probably speaks to you in Russian, doesn’t he? Not that that matters, because why would he speak Russian here if this world was made for me because I can’t speak Russian, and holy shit, I should stop talking before I wake him up too, I’m sorry. Shh.” Yuuri panicked, walking forward and setting a hand on Makkachin’s head, petting softly. The dog relaxed back into the bed, but – Viktor was awake.

Yuuri stumbled backwards, stuttering out an apology, but it didn’t seem to matter to Viktor, because he didn’t even look at him, only glancing at Makkachin, who was starting to fall back to sleep and smiling, patting his dog a few times, and saying something in Russian, which only enhanced Yuuri’s panic. Why was Viktor speaking in Russian? Viktor should definitely be speaking in Japanese, or at the very least, English, so Yuuri could understand what he was saying.

The Russian man didn’t even look at him, only blinked a few times in the brightness of the light, laughing softly as he flicked it off, and the room was plunged into darkness, soon matched with the soft breathing sounds of Makkachin and Viktor fast asleep.

They were asleep again. Viktor Nikiforov and his poodle were asleep, and Yuuri was stuck with nothing but the darkness of Viktor’s bedroom. He breathed in and out a few times, sinking down onto the ground and trying to think, but…

He couldn’t focus his thoughts, and he pushed himself back to his feet, grabbing the doorknob, and praying to any god he’d ever heard of that it would just open. He shoved it open, hard, and fell forward with it, a small gasp of breath escaping his mouth as he did.

Thank god! The door opened up to reveal –

A… living room?

Not _any_ living room, but a living room Yuuri specifically recognized from a magazine spread that Viktor had done about the apartment he’d gotten recently. Yuuri spun around in shock before sinking back down onto the ground, covering his face with his hands. He was eternally stuck in Viktor Nikiforov’s apartment. This was his afterlife. He could go wherever he wanted, in Viktor Nikiforov’s apartment.

Wait!

He hadn’t tried to leave yet. Yuuri didn’t bother shutting the door behind him, taking giant steps as he sprinted toward the front door, easily throwing it open. Oh, god, it was – he could get out. Maybe that was what he was supposed to do? Yuuri shut Viktor’s door behind him, walking down the hallway. He was right, he had to be right, this must be what was happening! He breathed out in relief, picking up his steps as he made his way out of the complex and onto the streets of St. Petersburg, squinting at the Cyrillic on the signs as if he could read them to know where to go.

He couldn’t, and he just started to follow a crowd of people, hoping he was going in the right direction. He was nearly a block away when he realized he couldn’t take another step.

He couldn’t move. Yuuri blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he was back in Viktor’s bedroom, where the man was sitting up, speaking softly to his dog. In Russian. Yuuri felt tears pricking at his eyes and he just sat back onto the ground, letting them fall.

Makkachin seemed to notice, even if Viktor still wouldn’t look at him, and bounded over, resting in front of Yuuri, letting him pet him as he cried. Viktor said something else, and then disappeared into the bathroom, and Yuuri’s sobs only picked up.

“Makkachin, I don’t know what to do.” He pressed his face into the dog’s fur, and Makkachin crawled into his lap, staying there and letting Yuuri cry until Viktor stepped out of the bathroom from his – shower.

Oh shit! Yuuri averted his eyes immediately, breathing heavily for a moment before slowly opening one of his eyes again, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that Viktor had already thrown on his clothes for training. As much as he was a fan of Viktor Nikiforov, and as confused as he was about this situation, he really didn’t need to see Viktor without clothes on just out of the shower.

Even if this was some creepy stalker dream world afterlife situation, that seemed levels of inappropriate that Yuuri didn’t want to overstep. He pressed himself against the wall when Viktor walked past, and though Makkachin paused to brush against his legs, he was once again completely ignored by Viktor.

Maybe that was what was supposed to be happening? But if that was supposed to be happening, why the hell was he shot back into Viktor’s bedroom? He couldn’t escape, he was just stuck watching Viktor Nikiforov go about his daily life for the rest of time?

Yuuri sighed, following after Makkachin and Viktor, watching the man preparing breakfast, and just stared at him, a little bit of hysterical laughter escaping his mouth, because Viktor was _singing_. And not well, not at all. No, Viktor was loudly singing what must be some sort of Russian pop song, mixed in with a few American ones that Yuuri recognized.

It turned out that Viktor must be a pretty decent cook, judging by the smell of the apartment. Whatever he’d made for breakfast was unfamiliar to Yuuri, and Viktor was still talking to himself while he served it, pausing before he ate to reach down Makkachin’s food and fill his dog’s bowl, sitting on the ground for a good five minutes just petting the dog and murmuring in Russian (probably telling Makkachin he was a good dog, or something, judging by how hard Makkachin’s tail was wagging).

Then Viktor’s phone started to ring, some generic ringtone that he’d clearly not gotten around to changing yet, and he grabbed it, and Yuuri was shocked to see no surprise on his face when he was immediately greeted by shouting Russian. Instead, he just responded (and Yuuri caught the word ‘Yakov’, so Viktor must have been talking to his coach).

Viktor grabbed the breakfast he’d prepared, eating quickly and grabbing another bag that Yuuri hadn’t noticed him filling with food (his lunch, he supposed), pulling on his shoes and rushing around the apartment for a moment, in search for keys and wallet which were placed on a counter where they’d clearly been left so he could remember where they’d be (still, Yuuri understood the panic of losing them in plain sight – his glasses were the main victim of that, himself), snatching them off the table and rushing to the door, picking a bag off of the floor as he left and throwing on his jacket for Team Russia.

Once he was out the door, Yuuri sat down beside Makkachin, preparing for a day alone with the dog. After his test last night, it was clear that Yuuri couldn’t go more than a few blocks away from the apartment, so really it was no use following him out of his apartment. It was so disorienting getting thrown back into Viktor’s bedroom the night before, so he really didn’t want to experience that again.

He just wished he knew how he could escape from Viktor’s apartment. As much as he admired the other skater, he really hadn’t wanted his afterlife to be stalking his idol, who was still alive.

“This really isn’t fair, Makkachin,” Yuuri started to speak right before he realized how dizzy he was feeling, and he paused in his petting, closing his eyes tightly to try to get his head to stop spinning.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in front of Viktor at an ice skating rink. Yuuri let out a small noise of shock, just staring at the skater in front of him, who was setting his bag down, yelling Russian greetings to Yakov and other skaters, and Yuuri just stood there, completely still, trying to process the situation.

Apparently, it got worse. He wasn’t just stuck in Viktor’s apartment; he was stuck with _Viktor_. And, yes, most people would probably be excited to see their idol live out their everyday life, or whatever, but Yuuri was confused. And, well, maybe if he wasn’t _dead_ , this would be more exciting. But he was dead, and forced to follow Viktor around for the rest of his afterlife, apparently.

He sighed, staring at his feet. It could be _worse_ , he supposed. Sure, he’d really rather have something peaceful and not entirely in Russian, so he sort of knew what was happening, but it wasn’t like he was suffering or anything here. Like, whatever afterlife choices existed, this was probably middle ground with where it could be. Sure, he couldn’t understand a word that was being said and felt unreasonably like a stalker, but he also wasn’t being eternally punished. Unless this was his eternal punishment.

Wow, the afterlife was confusing.

The only ghosts he had ever heard of existing were over-romanticized stories of soulmates where one had died before the two had met. However, if that was what he was, that would mean that he was Viktor Nikiforov’s soulmate, and that… seemed incorrect. Sure, that would explain why he was haunting a single person, but it wouldn’t explain… anything else. Viktor Nikiforov’s soulmate would have to be someone… more. More attractive, more talented, just… not Yuuri.

Yuuri Katsuki was not only dead, but he had done practically nothing when he’d died. He’d participated in a few junior competitions, but at the age of eighteen, he hadn’t made a name for himself in the seniors. Sure, he still had a few years to grow, but in figure skating, you got old quickly.

If Viktor Nikiforov’s soulmate was going to be a figure skater, it wasn’t going to be Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri was snapped from his thoughts by Viktor’s voice. “Yuri!” Viktor seemed excited, and Yuuri’s breath stopped, because he was looking right at him. Was this the end, had he finally noticed him? Was he finally going to be free from this part of this awful afterlife? After Viktor looked at him, he’d probably say something dumb and then Yuuri would be brought into the next stop, which hopefully involved less Russian, and more legitimate peace.

Though, he had to say, he’d only been in this weird afterlife world for a few hours, and he’d miss Makkachin. He had Vicchan back home (something even more embarrassing to think now that he’d been stalking Viktor for hours in his afterlife, he could see why the universe would make the assumption that this was what he wanted), and Makkachin was so similar, but bigger, and still unreasonably sweet.

And also the only person in this world that would see him, apparently. Until now. Because Viktor had just called his name, and Viktor was looking at him, and raising his hand in a wave, and –

Wait – no, Viktor wasn’t looking at him, Viktor was looking _through_ him, at a small child who glared at him and started to spurt out aggressive Russian as he changed out of his skates into his normal shoes. Viktor only laughed and responded, walking past Yuuri (Yuuri only managing to jump out of the way at the last second; Viktor clearly couldn’t see him) and sitting beside the younger Russian.

They spoke amicably while Yuuri took a seat on the bleachers, pressing his back against the wall and his legs against his chest.

Apparently, he wasn’t saying goodbye to Makkachin quite yet. Yuuri watched Viktor and Yuri (which he had to assume was the younger skater’s name, as well, which was unfair and unfortunate) speak, Viktor pulling on his skates, and Yuri taking his off. It was clear that Yuri looked up to Viktor (honestly, who didn’t?) but Viktor also was perfectly respectful to Yuri, and it was nice to see.

Even if confusing and awful because _Yuuri_ could only sit there in misery and try to guess what they were saying. From countless interviews and competitions he’d watched in Russian, he was able to pick up their basic conversation starters, but from there, they started to speak faster, and with less common words, and Yuuri was completely lost.

Yakov Feltsman stepped onto the rink a few moments later, and called Viktor onto the ice, so the older of the two Russians waved goodbye and gracefully made his way out to his coach, while Yuuri sat on the far edge of the bench, watching Viktor warm up and begin to skate his programs.

A soft sense of longing filled Yuuri as he watched because it wasn’t _fair_ , was it? Yuuri was being taunted by the idea of skating, and he couldn’t even step foot onto the ice, since he was dead. Instead, he had to watch Viktor Nikiforov practice his step sequences and his spins and his jumps, and could only stare on in awe, as if he was still just watching him through the television screen, thousands upon thousands of miles away.

But Yuuri was _right there_. He looked away from the ice, instead standing up and wandering the rink, finding that he could make his way around the entire space without being shot back to Viktor. He didn’t know exactly how far from him he could get, and he didn’t really want to test it, but he also didn’t want to have to follow directly behind Viktor every second of every day.

After a while of wandering, Yuuri found an empty room that was unlocked, and stepped in, breathing out to himself. He took a few minutes just sitting on the floor and breathing before he stood up, stretching out.

Being dead and all, he didn’t know if he really had to stretch, but he figured it was probably a good idea. He was pretty sure there were no doctors in this world that could help him if he was an idiot and managed to hurt himself.

He didn’t know how much time was passing, but it was calming once he finally stretched, to just dance. He knew that he couldn’t get onto the ice (his feet seemed pretty solid against the ground, and the idea of wearing his sneakers onto the rink was not one he wanted to entertain), so this was his next best. He’d been dancing first, either way, and it helped eat away his anxiety just as well as skating did. He was _good_ at dancing.

It must have been a few hours (Yuuri was judging by himself starting to get tired – apparently that still happened here, which was probably good to know. There were still a lot of things to learn. Did he have to eat? Sleep? How did he get the food if he did have to eat?) when the door opened, and in stepped none other than Viktor Nikiforov. He was completely alone, and looked exhausted, sitting against a back wall of the room and stretching his legs out, his lunch open on his lap almost as soon as he’d hit the ground.

Yuuri stood silently for a few moments before walking toward him again, sitting down a little while away, so he knew that he was out of reach in case Viktor did reach out or stretch his arms or something. He didn’t know what Viktor was in this world, but he did know that he couldn’t be seen, so it was better not to risk being touched, if that was possible.

At least he didn’t feel hungry while he watched Viktor eat, that was one question answered. Apparently, Yuuri wasn’t going to get hungry in this weird afterlife thing. That was probably better than the alternative, because he wasn’t really sure how he would steal food from Viktor without the other man noticing.

It was also sort of disappointing, because, really, he would like to try some of the food that Viktor was making. Clearly, Yuuri thought to himself, his priorities must not be in line if he was upset about not being able to eat food, even though he was literally dead.

He sat and watched Viktor, unable to bring himself to look over his shoulder and see what the other man was doing on his phone, and instead just staring ahead of himself, tracing patterns against the ground, wishing he knew how to fix this.

Yuuri didn’t notice when Viktor stood up, and so didn’t have time to move out of the way before the man was walking in his direction. He brought his arms up to defend his face, cowering from where Viktor would surely step on him, only…

Viktor stepped through him.

Well, there was the answer to another question. Viktor couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, and couldn’t touch him. He knew he was at least partially tangible: he’d heard his feet hitting the ground while he was dancing, and he could feel it beneath him while he walked, and he’d been able to pet Makkachin, but apparently not for Viktor.

They went home late that night, and Viktor made another meal, throwing on some movie while he did, clearly one that he’d seen before and enjoyed, if the way that the man recited some lines and smiled at others before they happened said anything. It was a very domestic image, and Yuuri smiled to himself.

Viktor didn’t know he was there, and he still felt like a total creep, but Viktor Nikiforov seemed like a good person. It was… sort of exciting, to know so much about his idol that he’d otherwise have had no chance to find out. But also disappointing. Because, Yuuri sighed as Viktor climbed into bed that night, calling over Makkachin who immediately fell into the bed at Viktor’s side, Viktor couldn’t see him. He didn’t exist for Viktor Nikiforov. That was nothing new.

He didn’t sleep, he found out only a few minutes later.

Viktor fell asleep quickly, which wasn’t surprising since the man had practiced for so long. He couldn’t tell exactly when Viktor had fallen asleep, but he did know that he was, and Yuuri sat on the floor across from the bed, watching him and Makkachin for a moment before feeling creepy again.

If he didn’t need to sleep, he had to find some other way to spend his time.

Unfortunately, Viktor had no beginner’s Russian books around his house (not that Yuuri had _really_ expected that he would, but it had been a hopeful wish. If he was going to haunt a Russian man, it would be nice to speak Russian). Yuuri sighed, walking through Viktor’s apartment, and finally finding a bookshelf with a few English books.

Yuuri’s English wasn’t perfect, but he had been studying for a few years now in the hope of moving to America, so he supposed that was a good place to look first. If anything, it would teach him some English while he was stuck in Viktor’s apartment. He looked through the shelves before picking out a book with a title that he recognized, curling up onto Viktor’s couch and starting to read.

He finished the book that night, and heard Viktor stirring around in his room only a few minutes later, so Yuuri set the book back onto the bookshelf, ducking back into Viktor’s room.

What Yuuri didn’t notice his first day of his afterlife of stalking Viktor Nikiforov was that his idol took forever to get ready in the morning. And his hair was awful when he woke up. _Wow_.

Viktor climbed out of his bed, his pajama pants low on his hips and not wearing a shirt, stretching out. His hair stood up at every angle, and Yuuri wondered how on Earth he got it to lay flat and nice when it was so long. Obviously, Viktor had to have spent hours on his hair when it was that long, or else there was no way that it could have been as nice as it was.

Viktor seemed not to immediately care about his bedhead, walking into the kitchen immediately. He was up earlier than the day prior, so he made himself breakfast again, obviously taking his time with it this time. He walked back into the bedroom while it was cooking, setting out clothes for the day and doing some stuff on his laptop before walking back into the kitchen. He finished the breakfast and put away and cleaned all of his dishes, eating before disappearing into his bathroom.

The rest of the day went the same as the day before, and Yuuri once again hid in the empty room to dance while Vitkor was practicing.

That was how his life went for the first few days, but the days when Viktor didn’t have practice, he just followed the man around St. Petersburg while Viktor ran errands and just went into stores, walking around as a way to spend his time. He went to the rink a few times when he didn’t have practice, helping Yakov with some of the younger skaters.

He was on the phone often, sometimes in English, sometimes in Russian.

His apartment was always empty, though.

Yuri Plisetsky (as Yuuri had learned was the last name of the younger Yuuri) tripped over him one day at the rink, and Yuuri almost died (again) in shock. Yuuri had been stretching on the ground to get ready to dance, his legs spread in front of him, and Yuri Plisetsky had come storming out of another room. The ten year old fell to the ground in shock and stared around the rink to find a source while Yuuri pulled his legs back into his body, staring at him.

Yuuri gasped aloud, and Yuri’s eyes shot toward him, staring right in his direction, but Yuri didn’t seem to see him, though, and stomped back out of the building, going home, his practice over. Other people could touch him? So did that mean that it was just Viktor who couldn’t get anywhere near him? And Yuri Plisetsky had seemed to hear him, as well, which was…

Was Yuri Plisetsky the person who was going to lead him out of this weird afterlife? It didn’t really make sense, since Yuri was ten, and Yuuri was haunting Viktor, but if Yuri could see him, it seemed like a decently logical conclusion, didn’t it?

It wasn’t true, he supposed, because after a few days, Yuuri avoided Yuri Plisetsky, and nothing changed. He just went back to haunting Viktor as normal, and no one could even tell that he was there.

After a few months of haunting Viktor Nikiforov, he found out that he could change his clothes, at least slightly. Viktor was in a meeting with Yakov at the rink, and Yuuri was bored, not wanting to listen to the two talking quickly back and forth in Russian (since he couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway), so he went to wander the rink.

After a few moments, he found himself staring longingly at the rink, wishing that he had skates. Wishing that he could go back out to the ice and dance, and do what he realized he loved so much. He leaned over the edge and nearly tripped, staring down at his feet, where there were… skates.

Yuuri gasped in shocked excitement, and wasted as little time as he could stretching (still not entirely sure if it was necessary) before basically jumping onto the ice, easily going through his programs from the last season, feeling more relaxed with every jump and spin, smiling to himself.

Haunting Viktor Nikiforov meant that he was haunting an ice rink, basically, and if Yuuri could skate, then… it wasn’t too bad at all. He didn’t know if he could fall out of shape, but he wouldn’t, since apparently he was perfectly capable of skating.

The competition season picked up soon, and Yuuri found himself going all sorts of different places as he haunted Viktor, since he had to go to all of his competitions with him. The first plane ride with Viktor Nikiforov was horrifying for Yuuri.

Knowing that it was possible that other people could touch him, Yuuri knew that he had to stay away from others, but he also couldn’t just linger in the aisle, in case the flight attendants might come down and run into him, because he really didn’t need them explaining something that wasn’t there getting in their way in the middle of the aisle.

Luckily, on their way to Viktor’s first competition of the season, there was an empty seat a few rows back for the whole ride, so Yuuri sat there, staying as quiet as he could and hoping that no one would notice him sitting there.

He wasn’t so lucky on the way back, and there were no empty seats on the entire plane, so Yuuri stood awkwardly in the aisle for a few moments before he shoved himself in the row, standing in front of Viktor, because he knew that Viktor was the only one who for sure would be unable to touch him. Luckily, the older skater spent more time talking to his coach than doing anything in Yuuri’s direction, but Yuuri was cramped between the seat and Viktor’s seat, and he wished that he could sit down, but sitting down would mean sitting on Viktor (in Viktor?), and he couldn’t risk that.

Makkachin stayed with him on the couch that night, and Viktor looked disappointed, but had no idea what was happening, since he had no idea that Yuuri was there.

The main highlight of his first year haunting Viktor was watching him perform. He’d seen Viktor on tv, but seeing him in person was something completely different. The man rarely even seemed anxious, and Yuuri stayed far off in the stands, watching him in amazement every time, never daring to get any closer (even though he _knew_ he wouldn’t be noticed).

He didn’t know why he was haunting Viktor Nikiforov, but when he found ways that he could do it without just constantly stalking Viktor at all moments, it wasn’t so bad. It was actually sort of amazing, seeing Viktor Nikiforov’s life from such a close up position. And a lot less creepy than it could have been, since Yuuri was careful not to do anything that he thought that he shouldn’t do.

It was after a year that Yuuri finally introduced himself, even though he felt ridiculous doing it. Viktor was sitting on his couch, completely alone, running his fingers through Makkachin’s fur, and Yuuri sat down beside him, closer than he’d dare sit to Viktor so far, bringing his own hand up to brush against Makkachin, his hand brushing through Viktor’s a few times as he did.

“My name’s Katsuki Yuuri,” Yuuri spoke the words softly, even though Viktor couldn’t hear them. “You don’t know who I am, and it seems that you never will, since I’m dead, but I might as well introduce myself, since it seems that I’m stalking you and I don’t know why.”

Viktor’s phone buzzed, and Yuuri jumped, watching as Viktor pulled it out and smiled, sending a message back to whoever it was, this time in English.

He continued after a moment, “I don’t think ghosts are real, not normal ghosts, at least. I mean, there’s the soulmate ghost-thing, but… that’s ridiculous.” He stared down at his feet, unable to look at Viktor, even though the other man couldn’t hear him or see him. “I’m not your soulmate, so there’s no reason for me to be haunting you.”

Because Yuuri _couldn’t_ be Viktor Nikiforov’s soulmate. You don’t just become the soulmate of your biggest inspiration and have it actually work out. Either way, one soulmate dying before the other was so rare that if Yuuri _was_ haunting Viktor because of that, it was doubtful that Viktor would even notice him. He hadn’t this whole year, and it couldn’t be this hard, could it?

Why would the world even bother to give him another chance at his soulmate if he could go for so long without Viktor even knowing that he was being haunted? It wasn’t like Yuuri was completely perfect in his haunting – he pet Viktor’s dog, he cleaned up Viktor’s apartment when the other man was too tired to do so, he’d left his books laying out a few times.

And yet Viktor seemed none the wiser that he was there. At least there was a limit, even for soulmates. If your soulmate didn’t notice you within that limit, the story went that you still disappeared. Sure, no one could confirm for sure, because if anyone who was alive had died before their soulmate, they didn’t mention it, but… Somewhere, the story had come to be that you only had five years.

 “I guess if I am your soulmate, at least I only have to do this for five years. You won’t see me.”

Maybe that was better. If they only had five years, that meant that Yuuri only had to watch Viktor perform and find ways to waste the rest of his time for four more. It wasn’t for eternity, and Yuuri could move on.

It was two years into it, after Worlds, almost nearing the third year, that Yuuri realized he was terrified. Sure, he’d gotten used to following Viktor around all the time, but he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to have to leave Viktor alone any more.

Not that Viktor was always alone. About halfway through his second year of haunting him, Viktor had started to come home with people every so often. Because there was even the slightest chance that Yuuri was Viktor’s soulmate, it sort of hurt to see the other man bringing people here on dates, but Yuuri stayed away when he did.

He went down the street, where he’d found an abandoned building. Being a ghost was much less terrifying to be in an abandoned building, and he knew that it was within his range of not getting shot back to whatever Viktor was doing (he never wanted to know what Viktor was doing).

When Viktor had nighttime visitors, Yuuri stayed out all night. It was easier that way.

Not that Yuuri was jealous, or anything.

At the beginning of year three of his haunting, Yuuri was less afraid of being close to Viktor during competitions, and decided to stay behind him during a press conference, just to see what the world was like from this angle. If it went the way that it had the first two years of his haunting, this year would mark a third consecutive year of gold medals for Viktor Nikiforov.

A reporter stopped Viktor after a press conference, and that stopped Yuuri from ever standing anywhere near him again. “Most of your pictures came out pretty distorted tonight, we can’t figure out why. A few cameras picked it up, so we were wondering if we could take a few more before you went?” Yuuri blinked, knowing that must be him.

Viktor smiled, of course he smiled, and agreed to take the pictures.

It was four years in when Yuuri realized that he might have a chance of making Viktor notice him – that maybe Viktor already had.

One night, he called Christophe Giacometti on Skype. Yuuri’d heard them talking a few times before, and usually went off to sit with Makkachin or to hide in the abandoned building, but the building was being remodeled and was no longer a safe zone for him, and Makkachin had fallen asleep on Viktor’s bed. Never in these four years of haunting him had Yuuri stayed in the room with Viktor during a call, but the man was pacing around the apartment with his phone, and so the safest place seemed to just be with Makkachin.

Which meant that Yuuri sat down on the edge of Viktor’s bed and started to stroke his fingers through the dog’s hair, zoning out most of the conversation between the two until he picked up something that made him freeze in excitement – he had a chance.

That was, if he was Viktor’s soulmate, he had a chance. Because if he was Viktor’s soulmate, this was his last year.

“Your camera is awful tonight, Vitya. It keeps flashing in and out, and the lighting is terrible. Are you in your apartment like normal?” Chris’s voice came through Viktor’s phone and Viktor made a humming noise, sitting on his bed.

“I am. Is it bad everywhere?” Viktor sighed, laying back and staring at his ceiling while he continued to talk to his friend.

“Mostly just your bedroom. When you showed me Makkachin, I couldn’t see a damn thing.” Chris responded, and Viktor nodded, tapping his fingers against the bed.

Finally, he spoke, “Do you think there’s a such thing as ghosts, Chris?”

Chris made a surprised noise on the other side of the phone, before exclaiming, “Are you being haunted, Vitya!?”

“I just… Last year, after Worlds, they had a lot of issues with their cameras at the press conference, and I’ve been having weird blurriness in my pictures a few times, too, especially of Makkachin, and now you commented on it, and… I was just wondering.”

“Well, there’s always the soulmate thing.” Chris shrugged, and Viktor sighed.

“You think my soulmate’s dead and haunting me?” Viktor stared at the ceiling again, not even looking at his phone. “That seems… like it’s not possible, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t this be me recognizing them, wouldn’t I be able to see them at this point?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how it works, Vitya. Maybe you have to know _who_ they are.”

“Then I’ll never know, if it is them, Chris!” Viktor whined.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re just being haunted by a regular ghost. Or maybe they need to do something too. Or maybe you’re just incredibly unphotogenic suddenly. I wish I knew, Vitya.”

Chris and Viktor kept talking, but Yuuri didn’t listen to the rest of their conversation.

Viktor knew that there was a possibility that he wasn’t alone, and now he knew there was a possibility that he wasn’t alone and the person with him was his soulmate. It was amazing, really, and Yuuri wondered if this would make him easier for Viktor to notice.

Only… Four years had passed, with Viktor not even realizing that there was someone else there.

If Yuuri _was_ Viktor’s soulmate, he only had five to get Viktor to know he was there, and to recognize him as who he was.

And he had no idea how to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm glad you enjoyed part 1 thank you so much for all of your kudos/comments/bookmarks, i love it <33 here's part 2.
> 
> i'm on tumblr at [yoyoplisetsky](https://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/). i am very nice and would love to talk to them <3
> 
> the explanation of my general idea for this universe/au is in the end notes of this chapter, in case it was unclear. if it's still unclear, just ask me, i get that i made some crazy overcomplicated mess in this fic <3

Stay Close to Me. That was the title of the music for Viktor’s free skate on their fifth year, and Yuuri felt his heart drop when he heard it the first time. It was beautiful, stunningly so, but Viktor looked so… sad. Of course, Viktor didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t notice him by the end of this season, but… It almost seemed like he did.

The program seemed listless.

Yuuri could tell that much simply from watching Viktor choreograph it. His other programs were always filled with life, and showed his love for the sport, told his story. This one was different. This one showed Viktor longing, showed him bored, restless. It showed the Viktor who every few months would bring someone around the apartment that Yuuri would never see again. It showed the Viktor who’d talk to Makkachin late at night, or stay up at strange hours specifically to talk to friends in different countries. It showed the Viktor who had come home from practice the last few nights and just gone into his room and cried against Makkachin’s fur.

It showed a Viktor Nikiforov the world didn’t want to see – the one who was getting tired of skating, or, at the very least, getting tired of being Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri knew that he was; he’d seen him over the years trying harder and harder to push himself, to do something that the audience wasn’t expecting. He put more quads into his program, he perfected the quad flip, again and again, he did things that people thought were impossible. He’d act all happy at the rink, and them come home, alone to his apartment with his dog and eat a bowl of cereal or order food out. No more cooking meals that looked delicious, no more teasingly inviting Yuri Plisetsky to spend the night and being genuinely excited when he actually showed up. He was even inviting people over less and less often.

Viktor was _lonely_ , and he was _bored_ , and Yuuri could do nothing about it. It was his fifth year haunting Viktor, so if he was right, and he was (somehow) Viktor’s soulmate, it was his last one. It broke his heart to know how lonely Viktor was, but he couldn’t _fix it_. Viktor couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. He didn’t know that he was never alone. He didn’t know that if he didn’t realize in the next few months, he’d probably never meet his soulmate.

One night, Yuuri was sat on Viktor’s floor, watching the man pace the room, tugging at his hair, reciting something under his breath in Russian. Makkachin chose to lay beside Yuuri, half asleep as Yuuri stroked slow fingers through his fur. At least he had Makkachin, he supposed. It may have been five years alone watching Viktor Nikiforov climb higher and higher in the ranks of figure skating while Yuuri could only watch, but he had Makkachin, who was always perfectly aware of him.

Finally, Viktor froze in his footsteps, calling Makkachin forward, and Yuuri reluctantly let go, since the dog would always obey Viktor. Viktor sat down on the floor, pulling Makkachin into his lap, and swallowed before he began to speak.

“I’m going to quit skating.” It was in English, one of the rare circumstances that Viktor spoke in their shared language in his own home, while he was alone, and Yuuri’s breathing stopped, his hands coming to cover his mouth. Even Makkachin whined, seeming to understand how distressed both of the humans were. “In the past four years, I’ve done more in the sport than I thought possible,” The words were slow, hesitant, like he was practicing a speech. Was this Viktor practicing what he would say to the press when he quit skating forever?

Yuuri knew he was getting restless, but that’s not what this sounded like. This sounded like Viktor wasn’t just _restless_ , but he was done. He was quitting skating _forever,_ not just taking a break while he found himself, like Yuuri had hoped was the case, if Viktor had to take a break. Yuuri’s heart sank, because he didn’t want to imagine a world where Viktor Nikiforov wasn’t skating (he didn’t stop to think about the possibility that this was his last year on this world at all). “I’ve broken countless world records, including my own. I have a signature move no one else has come close to performing yet. I’ve gotten so many medals I need more than one trophy case.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at this, because it was true. In the past five years, Viktor had done the unthinkable, winning a medal in everything that he did – most of them gold. If the streak continued, he’d do the unthinkable, become a five time world champion, and Yuuri was excited for him. Viktor now had some medals visible, but had others put away in drawers, since he couldn’t display them all at once. It was amazing, and that only made Yuuri’s heart break more as Viktor continued.

“I don’t know what to do next.” At this, his words broke, less of the focused tone Yuuri knew was for the press, and more… well, he couldn’t understand Viktor when he spoke at home, because it was in Russian, but if Yuuri had to guess, this was the tone the Russian was spoken in. Russian was just so different from English that he wasn’t sure. It was scared, and uncertain, and lonely, and human, and as much as Yuuri had come to know the human Viktor Nikiforov, he hated hearing him sound so afraid.

But then Viktor let out a small broken sob, pressing his face into Makkachin’s fur, his words growing somewhat muffled. “I don’t want to skate any more. I want to get away, and live with my dog, and meet people, and maybe fall in love.” It was still in English, but Yuuri knew Viktor couldn’t use this in a press conference, especially not with the tears falling down his face.

“No one wants me.” Yuuri knew he couldn’t saw these parts, especially, but Viktor continued in English, like there was someone that could hear (Yuuri wished he could tell him there was. He was _right there_ ). “I’ve had a few people over the years, but the only consistent have been friends and my coach, and – none of them count, not really. I love my friends, I do, but I’m just – “ Viktor’s voice broke, and it took him a second to recover.

“I’m so alone,” He whispered to Makkachin, who obviously couldn’t respond, repeating the phrase in Russian. It hurt Yuuri to know that’s what Viktor had said so many times while he’d been right there. Yuuri’s heart broke when Viktor said it out loud, because it was _real._ It wasn’t just Yuuri trying to hypothesize what his Russian babblings were or what his deepest emotions were, it was Viktor Nikiforov, in tears, falling apart.

They only had a few months left, if he was right. Viktor was still murmuring to his dog in Russian before his head snapped up again, continuing his practice for this speech.

“I don’t want to stop skating, I just want to no longer skate in competition. I will continue to do exhibitions and other programs as much as I see fit, but I want to make space for someone new. I need a season off. Maybe I’ll come back, or maybe I’ll let someone else steal the show. Yuri Plisetsky is a rising star, he could do well when he debuts as a senior.” His smile looked more forced than it had when Yuuri stood off to the side of his press conference, trying desperately not to get in the shot, ever since they’d had noticed the photos getting distorted.

“I still love skating, and would never quit it forever, not entirely. I’ve been on the top of the sport for so long, though, and it’s time for someone else to have a chance. I feel I’ve got nothing left to give this season, and so plan for it to be my last, at least for now. I’m sorry.”

Viktor said a few more things in Russian, writing some of it down before he laid on the couch, letting Makkachin lay on top of him. Yuuri sighed, watching them lay there together, leaning against the side of the couch, wishing he could comfort Viktor. Could tell him that he wasn’t alone, that his soulmate, of all people, was right there.

But Yuuri Katsuki was dead. And he only had a few more months before he’d be dead for good, and go on to whatever actual afterlife existed. Was there something?

Yuuri had his eyes shut, just listening to the two breathe, so at first he didn’t notice when Viktor got up, but suddenly the man was frantically packing a bag and running from the apartment, so Yuuri did the only thing that he could do – he followed.

Viktor went to the rink, which wasn’t really surprising, and began to skate his program, much better than Yuuri had ever seen him do it, clearly trying to express what he was saying before. It was then, watching Viktor skate and try desperately to figure out how to do this. He couldn’t let Viktor stay like this – alone. He needed the other skater to know that he hadn’t been alone, for such a long time.

If it was possible that Yuuri was Viktor’s soulmate, then it was possible that Yuuri could have Viktor see him. He could keep Viktor from feeling this alone and lost forever. If not, well, Viktor would be none the wiser (Yuuri couldn’t stop and think how it would feel for himself, he _couldn’t_ ).

When Yuuri had first started to haunt Viktor, it was right after Worlds. Which meant he had merely months to do what he knew he needed to. If he couldn’t get Viktor to notice him by the end of March, it was basically over for them. Not that Viktor knew what he was losing, but… even if soulmates weren’t a necessary part of society, clearly they were important to the ones that had them, if you had to haunt your soulmate for five years if you didn’t meet them before you’d died.

_Oh_.

Yuuri watched Viktor land his quad flip, but he still looked disappointed with himself, and the former skater let his hands once again cover his mouth. He knew what he needed to do.

It was weird, changing clothes now. He’d only done it a few times, because it wasn’t entirely necessary since no one could see him, but he basically had to think the new clothes into existence. It was frustrating, and unnecessary, but… well, he didn’t need to change his whole outfit now, just his shoes. Yuuri focused for a moment, watching Viktor step off of the ice.

If he was right… Yeah. Viktor walked off in the direction of the offices, leaving his bag behind. It wasn’t the first time that Viktor had just decided to stay at the rink overnight, finding it too hard to go back home, or just not wanting to. He’d leave early in the morning to take care of Makkachin, but since Yuuri didn’t sleep, he had plenty of time to begin.

He focused until his shoes morphed into skates, and breathed out when he could feel that they were the comfort of his old skates, clearly worn in enough to be useful on the ice. He stepped out onto the ice, relaxing as soon as he had. Since he’d been haunting Viktor, he’d only ever skated the nights that Viktor slept at the rink, since his skates were tangible enough to make noise against the ice.

And he desperately hoped they could make enough noise. At the very least, that they could make the right noise. He hoped he had enough time.

Soon, competition season was in full swing, and Yuuri had to practice when he could on the ice, but more often than not, he’d be practicing in a room not far from Viktor while he was with friends or his coach, getting ready for the rest of the season. He practiced in dance, first, and then converted that back onto the ice, hoping that he had enough ice time. When Viktor stayed close enough to the rink that Yuuri wouldn’t get hurt by trying to get away from, Yuuri went to the rink all night, practicing until his whole body (was it a body? It was something tangible, but he didn’t know if it was just a soul) hurt from falling and trying so hard.

Worlds came quicker than Yuuri wanted to, and he was unsurprised when his Viktor took gold, waving it high above his head. The five time world champion, obviously proud of himself, but… That fake smile was on his face, and he deflected the questions about what he might do next season, maintaining the smile that everyone thought was so real.

Yuuri had _weeks_. Maybe _days_ , he honestly didn’t know. He had no idea how long after Worlds he had died, but he knew that it wasn’t long. He didn’t have long. Yuuri was getting more and more anxious, because he knew what it meant if this didn’t work. If this didn’t work, well, they were done. It meant that Yuuri wasn’t Viktor’s soulmate, or it meant that Viktor would never meet his soulmate.

If he _was_ Viktor’s soulmate, he wondered if Viktor would be upset that he never met his soulmate. It must seem strange already, twenty-seven years old, and not having met his soulmate, but… well, he wondered if it would upset Viktor when the years kept passing and nothing ever came.

Every part of his heart screamed that it would, and that hurt Yuuri almost as much as the idea of Viktor never meeting him – of him being dead for good. Viktor wouldn’t know; Yuuri would. That was the fundamental difference. Whatever awareness there may be in the afterlife (after-afterlife?), Viktor would never understand. And Yuuri couldn’t let that happen.

He had to think like that, he couldn’t let himself doubt it. If he decided that he wasn’t Viktor’s soulmate, then he wouldn’t push himself as hard, and he’d never know. For all intents and purposes, for the last few days that Yuuri may have here, he was Viktor Nikiforov’s soulmate. If it turned out that he wasn’t, he’d keep haunting Viktor for all of eternity, and always wish he knew why. If he was, and Viktor didn’t notice, he’d be gone forever.

If he was, and Viktor _did_ notice…

He _had_ to get Viktor to the rink.

Two days after they returned to Russia from Worlds, Viktor went to the rink late at night to talk to Yakov. Yuuri breathed out – this was his chance. He didn’t know the date, and didn’t honestly know the date of his death, either, but… if he was going to be able to do this, now was the time.

He let Viktor have his meeting, willing his skates onto his feet and stepping out onto the ice, not skating yet, because he knew that would make too much noise. Viktor stepped out of Yakov’s office with tears in his eyes, and leaned against the rink, contemplating. Yuuri knew what the meeting was about, even not having overheard, and not understanding Russian, and he just needed Yakov to leave before…

Perfect. Viktor’s coach stepped out of his office, calling out a goodbye to the skater, who waved a single hand in response. He was still staring out onto the ice, and Yuuri took this moment as his chance.

He couldn’t turn on the music, he knew that he couldn’t, but…

Stay Close to Me. Not that Viktor knew, but that was exactly what Yuuri needed at this moment. He needed to stay close to Viktor, he needed for Viktor to know that he was there. This was his last chance, and he’d been practicing so hard, it had to be perfect. He had to skate it perfectly – so Viktor knew what it was, and knew what he was saying.

If he couldn’t communicate by speech or by touch or anything else, maybe he could get Viktor to notice him by skating. He had to hope.

He started to skate Viktor’s program. Viktor didn’t notice the soft scraping noises at first, but as Yuuri landed the first jump, Viktor’s eyes were staring at the ice, confusion evident all over his face. Yuuri kept skating, just begging every higher being that this would work, that Viktor would recognize him for who he was. As far as Viktor knew, the ice was just making the sounds of someone skating, and…

Yuuri hoped he recognized it without the music. He hoped that Viktor knew what this was, and that he took the chance of being crazy, by noticing him there.

He didn’t even know how this would work. He didn’t know if Viktor had to know that his soulmate was Yuuri Katsuki (in which case, Yuuri was sure that he was too late, and that he and Viktor would never be reunited), or if he just had to know that his soulmate was there, with him. That his soulmate was reaching out to him and trying so hard to get Viktor to notice him.

Because if it was the second, he was close.

Yuuri was halfway through the program when Viktor spoke up, in English, thank god, “Hello?” His eyes were still staring past Yuuri, but following the soft marks on the ice from where his skates touched down. “I… are you there? Is someone there?”

And, in that moment, Yuuri landed the quad flip and heard Viktor’s shocked gasp, opening his eyes to a bright flash of light and stumbling onto the ice, unable to see for nearly a minute, nothing but the blinding light. In the time it took for Yuuri to get back onto his feet, he turned to look at Viktor, who was staring right at him with wide eyes, his hands covering his mouth.

“Are you…?” Viktor seemed unable to complete the sentence, only staring at Yuuri breathing heavily on the ice, and Yuuri realized there were tears streaming down his face. It had worked. “Who are you?” Viktor gasped, stepping forward, but not stepping onto the ice, not risking getting on without skates (Yuuri understood the feeling).

“Katsuki Yuuri.” He shuffled to the side of the rink, clinging to the rail, staring ahead of Viktor. “I’m… uh… I think I’m your soulmate.” He laughed, the noise unexpected, and he covered his mouth after he did, more tears falling. “I’ve been haunting you for five years.”

“You…” Viktor stared at him, as if trying to process what exactly that meant for them, and Yuuri let him, standing at the edge of the ice, afraid to step off. “Don’t you only get five years?” He managed to say after a long silence, and Yuuri laughed breathlessly.

There was an unspoken question, but Yuuri recognized it, and felt lighter on his feet as he stepped off of the ice, looking at Viktor with shining eyes. “Any day now, I didn’t even know. I just knew I had to try. I couldn’t talk to you any other way, it was… This was my last guess.”

“It was like music,” Viktor whispered, still awed, “You skated it better than I did.”

“That’s not possible.”

And _this_ spurred Viktor into action, his soulmate rushing forward and wrapping Yuuri into his arms, making another shocked breathless noise when they went right through him, and Yuuri stood there in shock, looking down at himself.

_No_! If Viktor could see him, that meant that Viktor was his soulmate. And all the stories always said that if your soulmate noticed you within your five years, you’d come back to life. They’d be able to touch you, and hold you, and it would all work out for the better.

Viktor seemed to be thinking the same thing, stepping back in shock while Yuuri felt more and more tears falling, barely processing Viktor’s hushed words, “But aren’t you…”

And then the world started to grow dark, he was getting dizzy, and Yuuri let out a panicked noise, because, _no_ , this wasn’t how it worked, he was _back_. Viktor should be able to touch him, he shouldn’t be going away. Viktor Nikiforov was his _soulmate_ , and he’d been haunting him for _five years_ , and he was too late. Was that a thing? Had it been too long, had he cut it too close? Did they get this last moment before he disappeared forever?

But they’d seen the light!

“My name is Katsuki Yuuri, and I live in Hasetsu, Japan, where my family runs a Hot Springs, and, please, if I’m still there, if I exist in whatever comes next, _please_ come find me.” Yuuri reached out to grab Viktor but got nothing, his breath once again leaving his body as he felt everything grow dark.

This time, when Yuuri opened his eyes, it was to a dark room, the only light coming in through the gaps of his window shades. He woke up to something soft, and his first thought was Makkachin, reaching out to pet the dog, but… missing. So, either Makkachin was suddenly much smaller, or…

The dog licked his face, and Yuuri blinked his eyes open again, unable to keep the smile of off of his face, even if it was in disappointment. “Vicchan,” He murmured, tangling his fingers into his pet’s fur and bringing him close to him. He rolled onto his side, sighing. Well, he’d tried, he supposed. He’d tried. And he’d learned that Viktor Nikiforov was his soulmate, and it was a bittersweet end that all he ended up with was a dog named after the man himself.

Tears pricked in his eyes as the thoughts started, because this wasn’t _fair_. Viktor had noticed him, after all, he’d been able to see him, and recognize him, because Yuuri had skated his program, and it had all worked out. But, apparently, he’d been too late.

He just kept Vicchan pressed to his chest, not wanting to look at anything else. He just wanted to… lay there. Well, if this was some new part of the afterlife, he supposed it meant he had to get on with his day. He stared at the ceiling, reaching out for his glasses, and, suddenly… heard his mother’s voice. Well, that wasn’t surprising, it was a comforting sound after five years of haunting Viktor Nikiforov.

What was surprising was what she said.

It was snowing? In April? He picked up his phone, which was turned off, and turned it back on, no notifications on it, just as he expected. It wasn’t like Viktor had his phone number. Oh, and, you know, he was probably dead for good this time, which meant Viktor wasn’t hear.

He sighed, getting dressed to help with the snow. It was comforting, to be given chores as his first task in this new afterlife. If he just got treated like he did in life, it would be nice, really. No thoughts of Viktor Nikiforov, other than the posters he ignored that adorned his walls.

He stepped downstairs and froze when he heard barking. “Vicchan?” But he’d left his poodle upstairs, because Vicchan hated the snow, and Yuuri spoiled that dog way more than he deserved (he deserved _everything_ , Yuuri thought to himself. Then the doors opened, and Yuuri stayed frozen in shock at what he saw.

“ _Makkachin_?” The dog burst in and jumped onto him, and Yuuri gasped in shock and laughter, holding onto him tight and petting the familiar dog’s fur in relief. At least he had that. Apparently, no matter where he died, he was going to be surrounded by Viktor’s giant poodle. Wow. Vicchan would probably love Makkachin, and Yuuri smiled to himself as he continued to pet Makkachin, ruffling the snow out of the big poodle’s fur. At least he got a little bit of remembrance of Viktor here, even if it was just his dog.

Which was what he thought, until…

“Looks just like our Vicchan, huh? His owner’s a good-looking foreign man, in the hot springs right now!” It was his father’s voice, and Yuuri froze on the ground underneath Makkachin for only a second longer before jumping to his feet, not listening to the rest of his words, and only feeling sorry for a second when he knocked into something (he couldn’t even be sure what).

He burst into the Hot Springs, and – there he was.

“Viktor?” His voice was barely more than a gasp.

“Yuuri!” Viktor spoke, and Yuuri’s heart soared as he saw his soulmate standing there, in the Hot Springs.

Completely naked.

Five years of haunting Yuuri had not prepared him for his first real sight of him to be his soulmate completely naked. Yuuri flushed red, burying his face in his hands as Viktor said something about coaching him (was that how he decided to spend his season off? Coaching Yuuri? That… well, it wasn’t a bad idea, since Yuuri had no idea what coach he’d had. He’d have to look himself up later).

“Don’t touch me!” He yelped when his soulmate stepped out of the Hot Springs, clearly with the intention of wrapping Yuuri into a hug. Viktor’s face immediately grew into shocked disappointment, and Yuuri’s only grew redder as he tried to explain himself. “I only mean, um, if you, uh – Please put on clothes first, Viktor.”

“You haunted me for five years.” Viktor seemed confused, like this was some shocking news that Yuuri didn’t want to see him naked, and Yuuri was nearly positive his entire body was red at this point.

“I never looked at you naked!”

And Viktor, thankfully, got dressed and settled into the Hot Springs, getting Yuuri’s mother to make him some food while Yuuri stared at his (now clothed) soulmate in just as much shock.

He was really there.

Later that night, when Viktor cupped Yuuri’s chin with his hand to ask him how he wanted to handle this, Yuuri skittered from the room in horror, because it worked. Viktor had actually touched him, it hadn’t gone through him or anything.

Viktor’s disappointed face back in the room made Yuuri laugh softly, and he slowly, hesitantly, shakily, came back in.

“However you want to?” Was his brilliant answer, and Viktor looked at him in confusion before kissing his forehead.

“We’ll figure it out together.” Yuuri melted into the touch and the words, nodding his head. “Do you want to sleep with me? Show me your room!” Viktor’s excitement bled into his voice again, immediately dragging Yuuri in the direction that Viktor knew his room was.

Yuuri sank onto his floor in embarrassment while his soulmate took in his walls, apparently still plastered with pictures of his face. “I had no idea you loved me so much!” He exclaimed happily.

And, yeah, he did.

He loved Viktor Nikiforov.

His soulmate.

His literal life.

(Or, at the very least, afterlife.)

Yuuri Katsuki was twenty-three years old when he came back from the dead. He came back in his family home, with his poodle laying on his face, just like he’d woken up every morning since he’d gotten Vicchan. His soulmate showed up a few minutes after he woke, and everything went well from there.

His theme for his season after his death was ‘love’, something Viktor seemed pleased to hear, and Yuuri didn’t have to guess to know why. He also knew that there were tears in Viktor’s eyes when he announced that Viktor was something he wanted to hold onto, and that he was the reason Yuuri knew what love was, even though he was nowhere near his soulmate. Everyone else thought Yuuri was talking about Viktor as a coach and a friend.

Yuuri didn’t correct them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to know how much he loved Viktor Nikiforov, but the time didn’t seem right. He wanted it to be perfect, since no one knew what had happened the last five years. As far as everyone else knew, Viktor had disappeared to Hasetsu and was suddenly coaching Yuuri, a nobody in skating who was on track to make the Grand Prix Final, and maybe even medal.

He got his first kiss when he came back from that press conference. It was late, and Viktor picked him up from the airport, letting Yuuri fall asleep on his shoulder while they drove back to the Hot Springs, leading him into Viktor’s room (which they’d chosen to use together), letting him collapse onto his big bed. Yuuri was still awake when Viktor kissed his forehead goodnight, a routine they’d gotten used to.

After an exhausting day and so much time apart, though, Yuuri was not content with just that. He opened his eyes after Viktor pulled away from his forehead, but sat up some. Yuuri grabbed his arm and dragged him forward to kiss his lips. Viktor made a shocked noise of excited surprise, and immediately gave into his kisses. It took them a long time to fall asleep that night, Viktor having to force Yuuri to because of how  he’d obviously not slept well the night before.

Their relationship became known when Yuuri, for the first time since coming back, landed Viktor’s signature move in competition, something he’d only ever done when he was invisible to Viktor. His soulmate’s eyes had lit up with such excitement at the sight, and Yuuri was shocked to be pressed onto the ice, his soulmate not even having time to rattle off praises before their lips were crushed together, having to pull away far too soon to keep either of them from getting hurt in the fall.

No one else knew exactly what that quad flip meant to them, but it didn’t matter, because they knew enough. They knew that, out of nowhere, Katsuki Yuuri, a twenty-three year old skater from Japan who was being trained by Viktor Nikiforov, had just miraculously landed Viktor’s signature move, something no one else had done. For Viktor and Yuuri, it was an acceptance that they’d make it this far, and they’d be able to go forward together forever.

It was only a few weeks later they got engaged, with the promise of being married as soon as Yuuri won gold at the Grand Prix Final.

He got silver his first season back, and he knew that Viktor was teasing when he told him he needed to win as many golds as his soulmate had, but that didn’t stop him from moving to Russia to train with him. What he, apparently, wasn’t teasing about was that Yuuri needed a gold for them to get married.

Yuuri’s theme for his next season was _rebirth_. Viktor’s was _life._ No one questioned the similar themes, but a few of the huge skating fans hypothesized many things (that Yuuri was Viktor’s life, that Yuuri was renewed now that he had Viktor, that Viktor had nothing without Yuuri), but no one guessed the truth. Yuuri liked it better that way. It had a mystery to it, and their programs were perfectly choreographed together. No questions were asked when both of their exhibitions featured the other skater, especially not after that first time they performed Stay Close to Me together.

And, that year at the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri got gold. He had barely even gotten off of the ice when he thrust the medal at Viktor, tears in his eyes (tears of excitement). “Marry me!” He demanded, without getting down onto his knees, and Viktor started laughing hysterically, pulling him into him to kiss him, right there in public. That was enough of a yes for Yuuri.

Yuuri Katsuki was eighteen years old when he died, but he was twenty-four years old when he got married.

Maybe this soulmate thing wasn’t so bad. Sure, dying was inconvenient, but how much longer would he have had to wait for Viktor otherwise? What would he have had to do to get his attention?

Yuuri hadn’t wanted to die, and he definitely did not want to die, but… in these circumstances?

His death was one of the best things to happen to him.

Nonetheless, he was glad it was over.

More than anything, he was glad he had Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLANATION OF AU;  
> if you die before you meet your soulmate, you haunt their lives until they recognize you. once they do, you get a second chance. it's a very rare occurrence, which is why most people don't know about it other than like ghost stories and myths: the grand majority of soulmates are brought together by the universe and fall in love in life. the usual reaction to meeting your soulmate is just a flash of light the first time that you make eye contact. however, if you die before meeting your soulmate, your soul still ages. most things are tangible for you, but you're unable to make direct contact with your soulmate (no touching, no speaking). no living human can see you, and if there are any other souls around, you can't see them. a living human other than your soulmate has a chance of hearing you, but chances are you'll be ignored because it's not like they can see you, anyway. you have five years for your soulmate to recognize you as who you are. once the recognition occurs, you both have the flash of light, and you're returned to your physical form. in terms of memories of death, etc., you, the person who died, don't know how you died, and once you've returned to your physical form, only your soulmate and you will ever know that you had died, everyone else's memories of the time only insert memories the dead if necessary (i.e. yuuri's family just imagines he still went to america; none of the skaters really know who yuuri is so he's basically a nobody when he re-enters in the canon season; the russians are even more confused when viktor disappears to chase after some boy in japan)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you sososo much for your continued support on this and others of my fics, your comments/kudos/bookmarks are amazing <3 remember to come talk to me on tumblr if you want to <33


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